Sherlock's secret

CHAPTER 20

Sherlock's POV

The cab ride back to 221B was devastatingly awkward, neither wanting to say anything. The driver felt it too, staring into the rearview mirror at the two estranged gentlemen. John was obviously still mad at him for not staying in hospital, but for once, he didn't mind.

As the car slowed to a stop in front of their flat, the thick tension in the air gratefully dissipated, leaving both men in a better mood. John, mumbling a thank you and tossing a few notes at the driver, jumped out the door to grab Sherlocks bag. Sherlock followed, clumsily trying to take the bag out of John's hands. When he succeeded, though, a searing pain ripped up both arms from his wrists and he dropped it.

"Sorry," he stuttered, the only sign John had heard him being a clench of his jaw.

Once up the stairs and back in 221B, John tiredly collapsed into his armchair.

Desperate to avoid the inevitable conversation about the past weeks events, Sherlock asked, "Tea?" Not waiting for a response, he hurriedly made his way to the kitchen.

"Sherlock, sit down."

He flopped into his chair across from John, rolling his eyes dramatically.

John, undeterred, continued. "We are going to talk about this like civilized people." Sherlock chuckled a bit at that, and despite his best efforts, John began laughing also. Before too long, they both lay on the floor clutching their stomachs with tears streaming down their faces.

"God, what have we come to?" John asked, once he had finally stopped giggling.

Sherlock smiled in response, taking the opportunity to look more closely at John. His face was flushed with colour, a vast improvement from the day before. And though his eyes were bloodshot and tired, he looked healthy. Hell, he looked amazing. Sherlock tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest.

"What?" John asked, breaking Sherlocks train of thought.

"What?"

"You said something," he replied, his voice barely concealing his amusement at the situation.

"No I didn't." Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yes, you did." Johns voice was firmer, but still happy.

"Well, if I did, it sure as hell wasn't meant to be said aloud." Sherlock tried through sheer willpower to stop the blush creeping into his cheeks. He just hoped John hadn't heard what he'd said about his appearance.

"Fine." Johns smirk and raised eyebrow only made Sherlock blush harder. "How about that tea?"